


Becoming Whole Once More

by mylostlovers



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father Figure Jason Gideon, Garcia is a good friend, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I really tried with the characterization, Mostly Canon Compliant, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Angst, Spencer Reid Has Self-Esteem Issues, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Whump, Spencer Reid has PTSD, Spencer Reid is a Mess, Tags Are Hard, hotch is a father figure, hotch is a good friend, morgan is a good friend, reid becomes Jason gideon, reid is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylostlovers/pseuds/mylostlovers
Summary: After a traumatic hostage situation, Reid comes back to the BAU and tries to adjust to life once more, though is finding these painful memories hard to suppress.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Elle Greenaway/Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon/Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	1. Remembrance of All Things Painful

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the beginning of 2005, and Reid is 23 just to make that timeline clear for everyone.   
> Just as a general note there won't be any romantic relationships in this fic, only focusing on trauma. With that being said I will make future fics for criminal minds ships.   
>  I hope you enjoy!

March 2005

Sunlight poured in through the pale curtains, pricking at sleeping eyes. As if it was waiting for this precise moment, the alarm sounded. It was a terrible shriek, however it succeeded in waking up Spencer Reid.

He placed his hands beside his chest and pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning over to turn off his alarm. Technically he didn’t need to be at the office until 9 am, but the 5 am wake up call allowed for him to crank out at least 2 files that he had taken home with him.

Rubbing at his dark eyes, Spencer pulled himself out of bed, it seemed to be a chore in itself. Coffee. A hot steaming cup of coffee that was able to make up in part for his sleepless nights. The youngest member of the BAU was beginning to have a problem with nightmares.

When night crept in and he sat alone amongst his books, he felt terror creep into his chest. He didn’t feel safe anymore. He would find himself glancing at his locked door, his foot bouncing more than usual, a rising terror in his throat, his lungs seemed to cave in on themselves until eventually it would all become too much and he’d race to his bed, craving the safety of his warm sheets. It was in these moments he felt he was most like his mentor, and father-figure: Jason Gideon.

He supposed this feeling of unease started 2 months ago, when he had been held hostage for the first time. The unsub, a rather unintelligent, yet strong man, had been able to grab the young Doctor Reid as the team had surveyed the unsub’s home. Believing the man to not be there: Reid had let his guard down, lowering his gun. It was in that moment the cracked closet door opened, and Reid felt the gun pointed at his head. He had cried out, and while it had been muffled by the man’s large hands, it had been enough to alert Agent Morgan and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, who were in the room over.

Spencer would never forget the feeling of an arm around his throat, coughing as his airway was closed off. He couldn’t forget the look in Derek Morgan’s eyes as he fretfully watched Reid, praying for the unsub to just _let him go_.

The moment of being held hostage hadn’t felt like long: no more than 10 minutes. But in those 10 minutes Spencer had found himself praying. He was a man of science, facts and statistics. He wasn’t religious, but in those moments the only thoughts that crossed his brilliant mind were: _“Please. If there is anyone out there at all please. Please God no Please. Not like this. I can’t end up like this. I can’t leave my mother alone please. Please save me someone.”_

Then the gun went off.

-

Spencer’s hands shook as he waited for his coffee to finish brewing. He stared down at his gray t-shirt and lifted up the edge. A long scar stretched across the side of his abdomen. Scarring from his gunshot wound, and the inevitable surgery that came with it.

Technically he wasn’t supposed to go back to work yet. The bureau had given him 3 months off to recover from his injuries, but the truth was that Spencer Reid only felt safe at Quantico. Knowing his teammates and many other highly qualified and trained professionals were in a government building with him, was the only thing that could momentarily stop the shaking in his thin hands.

He lifted his coffee to his lips and took a slow sip. The hot liquid scorched his tongue, reminding him that he was human, he was alive, he was okay. He’d been needing that reassurance more and more.

Spencer got dressed, letting his hands fall over all of the clothes he hadn’t worn in months: before deciding on a gray button up, black and blue striped tie, blue cardigan, and his favorite black Converse. He studied the Converse, searching them for traces of blood. JJ had taken it upon herself to wash the shoes free of blood, but still he stared, as if daring them to revert back to the mess they once were.

When he was finally ready: all dressed and teeth brushed, he looked in the mirror on his way out the door. He hadn’t had the heart to put in his contacts, his glasses resting lazily upon his thin face, cheekbones jutting out more than ever. However, ever one to slightly maintain appearances, Spencer had in fact gelled his hair down to its usual style. Now all he had to do was pray he wouldn’t be sent home in the first 2 minutes of being at the office.

-

With his hands clinging to his book bag like a life line, he watched as the elevator doors peeled themselves open for the young agent. Reid stepped out into the hallway, and was immediately greeted by a familiar face.

The blur of color had rushed past without seeing him, then seemed to realize she saw something out of place and came marching back to the elevators. “Reid?” Garcia asked. Her voice was like honey and comfort, it made Reid feel so safe he almost cried on the spot. “H-Hey Garcia.” His voice came out wavering and like a stutter: frantic to see if she’d turn him away. “Oh my brilliant Boy Wonder you shouldn’t be here.” But even as she said it, she was already engulfing Reid in a hug that smelled of sugar cookies and fresh flowers. That’s just how Garcia was, the ever welcoming beacon of light and hope in the dreary job that was the Behavior Analysis Unit.

“Reid what are you doing here?” This voice was almost as sweet as Garcia’s but it had more of an authoritarian edge to it. The clacking of heels on marble drew nearer to Reid as he lifted to eyes to Jennifer Jareau. “Hotch is going to kill you. What are you doing back? Haven’t been enjoying your break? Reading books and watching Star Trek?”

Reid offered a shrug. “I was feeling better and I had brought some cases home and I finished this morning so I thought I’d bring them by… See if we had a new case.”

JJ and Garcia exchanged a glance, one of concern perhaps, or maybe it was a signal to one another that they’d speak about it later. Whatever it was Reid couldn’t place it.

JJ offered up a sigh as she turned her gaze to Reid. “We’re about to debrief, whether Hotch will let you on the case or not I don’t know, but either way we’re heading over right now.”

-

Garcia and JJ entered the debriefing room first, and Hotch’s voice was cut off as Reid entered the room. The round table sat everyone he’d grown to love. Morgan, Elle, JJ, Garcia, Gideon and Hotch, though their expressions were unreadable. Reid thought they’d never say something until Elle finally spoke, “Welcome back Dr. Reid.”

Reid offered a smile, and began to take another step when Aaron Hotchner stopped him in his tracks.

“You have another month off Reid.”

“I know but I-“

“There’s not ‘buts’ this is a medical issue-“

“But I’m ready to come back Hotch please-“

The argument seemed it would continue on forever before Gideon interrupted. “Reid take a seat, start debriefing, we don’t have time to argue we can discuss this when we’re done.”

The tension in the air did not settle once JJ started talking. “Iowa. Three girls have been murdered: Jamie Wallace, Lauren Thames, and Olivia Coddington. All age twenty-four. Each of them with blonde hair. They went missing 2 days before they were found. When they were found by local police they each had severe disfigurements to their face and 20 stab wounds to the heart.”

Reid’s head pounded as he looked at the graphic imagery splayed before him. His foot began to bounce under the desk as he stared at the blood coating the victim’s lifeless bodies. Suddenly he was back in that house. Staring up at the ceiling he remembered raising a weak hand before his eyes, seeing it coated completely in blood. He remembered the screams of Morgan and Hotch. He remembered gasping for air so much to the point of his body shaking, his lungs on fire. Reid was awoken from his daze as he heard someone in the room speak.

“Whew-“ Morgan muttered. “Sure knows how to get his point across.”

Elle looked up from her file, “Any evidence of sexual assault?”

JJ shook her head, “Not as of right now, but the M.E. is still running tests.”

Hotch glanced around the table and closed his file. “Morgan, Gideon, I want you two to go to the most recent crime scene, Elle set up at the precinct with me. Wheels up in thirty.”

Reid slowly rose from his chair, figuring Hotch must’ve forgotten about him being in the room, even though he knew it was highly unlikely. “Jason, Reid, stay in here.”

As the rest of the team filed out from the debriefing room, Reid felt a weight press onto his shoulder, followed by the clacking of heels and the lingering scent of cookies and warmth. When the door shut behind Garcia, Reid launched into an explanation.

“Sir please, I can help. I finished all my old files, I feel a lot better, I don’t go out in the field much anyways-“

“Reid you know it’s protocol. Your hostage situation lasted thirty minutes, and you were shot. That qualifies you for at least 3 months you know that.”

Reid blinked, his mouth gaping open slightly. Thirty minutes? That couldn’t have been right, in the moment it had seemed to be 10 minutes max. He lifted a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sir please, I’m medically sound, I’m in perfect working condition, I’m going crazy sitting around all day.”

Hotch stared back with his usual intensity. The wrinkles in his forehead were more prominent than they had been before. Worry perhaps, or maybe he was just troubled with this decision.

“Let the kid work the case.”

Reid’s eyes lifted up from his Converse to look at Gideon.

“But Jason-“

“He’s been home for two months already, we both know you would’ve broken protocol by now if you were in his place. Reid you’re on the case. Start working a geo-profile, if you’re going to be on this case we need you one-hundred percent here.”

Clearly Hotch took some issue with the authority Gideon was asserting over him, but he didn’t say anything, only watched Reid’s face flicker with the trace of a smile before he left the debriefing room.


	2. Overwhelming State of Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While beginning the case, Reid finds it may be harder to adjust to work than he originally thought.

March 2005

Reid positioned himself on one of the couches on the plane, stretching his long legs out into the aisle. He just so happened to the first one on, and gave an awkward smile to Elle as she walked past, sliding into one of the seats.

“So Doctor Reid, couldn’t sit still long huh?”

Reid lifted his head from the file and looked into Elle’s eyes. They were full of nothing but warmth. Sure, she was intimidating, but when she looked at Reid a tenderness seemed to envelop her, as if she was looking at a lost puppy or a sick little brother. 

“Yeah I guess not, I can only watch Star Trek re-runs so many times I guess.”

Elle watched him, her smile sad and distant. She didn’t blame him for his stand-offish behavior though. With all of Reid’s ramblings and genius it was easy to forget he was so young. It was easy to gloss over his sensitivities and that no twenty-three year old should be held at gun point, and then shot. “Well it’s great to have you back Doctor, we missed you.”

When Reid looked into her eyes he believed it. He believed that she truly had missed him, that his desk had been a heart wrenching reminder of how lost the team could be without someone.Even now he could feel eyes on him, as though they were all expecting him to suddenly collapse with another bullet to the gut.

“…Disfiguring, it could be a sort of message. Damaging the beauty of these girls. I mean twenty-four inch waists, clear skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, these girls fit modern beauty standards.”

Morgan was speaking, looking between Hotch and Elle as he did. “That has to be one of his messages. Ruining those he believes to be beautiful.”

“And the stabbings to the heart could be a direct correlation to a woman he dated. Possibly looked like the victims. When the local police asked, the families said none of the girls had ever dated, so either the girls were lying to their family… or these are surrogates.” Elle added on.

“Reid, any significance to the dump sights? We know they weren’t murdered there so it must be a place he wanted them to rest, or rot.”

Hotch’s voice cut through Reid’s thoughts. The whole conversation had sounded fuzzy and distant.

“Huh? What- oh I- uh, no it doesn’t look like it. I mean they’re all parks. Maybe Garcia could check to see if any news occurred in the parks, but they might just be significant to him…” Even to himself Reid sounded far away. This plane, the crime scene photos, it all stirred up that same panic in him he got whenever it became nighttime. He stood, clearing his throat and mumbling a quiet “sorry,” as he walked to the coffee maker.

He gripped onto the counter, watching as each drop of coffee slowly trickled its way into thepot. He was dying to drink it. No sugar this time. Just bitter black coffee. Whenever he didn’t put sugar into his coffee it always seemed to make him more aware of his surroundings, something he needed.

“Hey kid you alright?”

“Fine. Why?” Reid didn’t bother to face Derek Morgan.

“Why?” Morgan repeated, scoffing under his breath. “Reid no one is expecting you to be alright. It was a rough situation and if you need to talk-“

“Well I don’t need to talk Morgan.” Reid’s voice cut through the other’s words, instantly silencing him. “I’m fine. I woke up early and I want some coffee. Can we please not talk about this? I can do my job.”

“Kid no one said you couldn’t-“ But as soon as Morgan watched Reid fiddle with the mug in his hands, he let the subject drop. Sighing, he turned and walking back to his seat. Only Reid would be able to face his demons, and whatever Morgan said or did couldn’t change that. All he could do was be there for when Reid finally decided he needed to talk.

Tears welled in Reid’s eyes. He grabbed the edge of his cardigan, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and pointer finger.

 _Ground yourself._ He thought. _Do not start panicking. You’re safe._

Logically, he knew nothing was going to hurt him on the plane, but the darkness towards this side of the plane made him uneasy. His heart pounded and his finger began to violently tap against the counter, wishing his coffee would just hurry up already. This fear was beginning to be irrational. It was beginning to consume him. He quickly picked up the pot, and poured his coffee into his mug, not daring to look at the bathroom door, that in the poor light, could pass for the closet door that haunted his dreams.

-

The precinct was small, and the room the BAU was given to work in was even smaller, meaning while JJ sorted through old case files, Reid was right beside her, plotting points onto a map.

“Hey Reid what kind of past crimes are we looking for here? Stalking? Sexual Harassment? Rape?”

The question seemed to be heard, but not registered. Reid stared at the push pins in his hands. A single push pin had found its way into Reid’s skin, causing a swelling of blood to gently slide down his hand.

The push pins landed onto the floor, scattering across the old carpet.

“Reid? Reid! Are you okay?” JJ was standing beside him, holding onto Reid’s wrist.

“Are you okay?” She repeated, staring into Reid’s eyes. He looked like he was a million miles away, in some other place, in some other time. “Reid!” JJ was beginning to panic, looking towards the door of the room, hoping someone would be able to come in here and help her rouse him from whatever nightmare he was living.

Reid was barely able to answer, opening and closing his mouth a few times before saying, “Fine I just- it just startled me was all.”

JJ’s heart pounded in her chest, her hand releasing his wrist as he bent to the ground. Would Reid always be like this? What if she had lost him forever? What if every time she called her best friends name he was only half-listening? What if he never performed physics-magic again, or never rambled for so long the whole team became mildly irritated? “You never answered my question.” She pointed out. There was no point in degrading him for these reactions. He might just retract from her more.

“I didn’t? Must’ve been distracted. Hey did you know that on average carpet can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch? That’s about 4,000 times more than a toilet.”

A sigh blew between the blonde’s lips. That was the most Reid thing he’d uttered all day. For a moment it was almost like he was back, but the pounding in her chest and her quivering hands reminded her that he wasn’t whole just yet. “No Reid, I didn’t know that. Hey are you sure you’re alright I can get you a band-aid or..."

“I’m okay JJ. Just scared me. Oh and he might not have a criminal record. Possibly complaints, but he most likely got off with rape or sexual assault, or this could be a psychotic break. We really don’t know enough yet, just look at rape, sexual assault, stalking and all of that for now. Unsolved ones too, I’m gonna- I’m gonna go-“ Reid held up his still bleeding hand to show that he was leaving to clean it off.

JJ watched as Reid left the small room. She sank into her chair and buried her face into her hands, praying that Reid wouldn’t have to live in fear forever.

-

The bathroom of the precinct was just as small as the room they were shoved into.

Reid put his hand under the faucet and watched the water run red, slowly turning clear as the blood washed off. The water was cold, and it felt nice against his soft hands.

For a moment he had been lying on the floor, lungs rattling, and bleeding out. Something about seeing the stark red against his pale hands had triggered some sort of reaction. His lungs felt tight, and as he stared into the water, swirling down the drain, it suddenly became blurry as tears crowded his vision.

He knew what traumatic events did to people. But he never thought he’d be one of those people. He never thought he’d be so frightened of the world around him.

Moments like this made him wish he had never become a profiler. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for the job. He was early into his career at the FBI, what if it had all been one big mistake? Hotch didn’t flinch at the sight of blood. Gideon didn’t cry when he got shot. Morgan didn’t avoid dark, shadowy rooms. Elle didn’t flinch as people passed her by. What if he just wasn’t cut out to be a profiler?

A sound issued from one of the stalls and Reid jumped back, staring at the place it came from. He didn’t know what had caused it. The rational part of his brain took over. Probably the pipes, probably construction, must’ve come from the other side of the wall, it suggested, but there was that other part of Reid that felt as though the moment he looked away, whoever was hiding in the stall was going to pounce on him, and this time he wouldn’t make it out alive.

Reid slowly backed out of the bathroom. He wouldn’t turn his back on whoever hid there. This time he would be ready. This time he wouldn’t be weak.

-

The hotel bed was large. It was warm, with clean sheets and a large tub that Spencer would be able to lay in and cleanse himself of the thoughts that plagued him. However, Spencer found no comfort in this room. He would’ve much rather shared with one of his team members, at least then he wouldn’t be constantly alert, and eyeing the closet so frequently.

After an hour of staring at his files, Spencer had begun to give up. He wasn’t going to have a major breakthrough and these days he seemed to take at least 2 hours to drift to sleep, so he figured a head start was in order.

Spencer lay awake, eyes shut and face pressed into his pillow. He just wanted all of these thoughts, these intrusions, these noises to shut up. He wanted to be peaceful again. He wanted his scariest thought to be: _"What if Hotch fires me?"_ instead of, " _What if the team leaves me on the floor, bleeding out again. What if I don't wake up in the_ _morning?"_

Even lying in the hotel bed caused anxiety for Spencer. His mind began to imagine the millions of things, of people who lurked in the dark, who would come to seize Reid in the dead of night. It was enough to make him sit up and turn on his lamp, before slowly easing into the pillows once more.

The sobs came before he was even aware of them. They were violent and made him cling to the pillows, as he cried years worth of pain into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um omg??? I was not expecting anyone to actually read this! Thank you so much for the kind comments on the last chapter, it means the world to me. This update is coming a little sooner than it will usually be, as I had the first 3 chapters already written out before posting.  
> I've just started back at school again so unfortunately I haven't been able to write as much, but just know I'm working on this one and a few other romance centered fics!


	3. Hostage of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of what really happened to Reid in that hostage situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey just a few quick things   
> 1\. I am not good at writing action so this will be very poorly written  
> 2\. Sorry for the length, it ended up a bit long.   
> 3\. I went on hiatus for a bit, oops

January 2005

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

His beating heart and heavy breathing was all Reid heard as he proceeded forward into the unsub’s home. While Morgan was around back, Hotch went left and Reid went right. His gun aimed straight out in front of him, finger resting on the trigger, Reid heard the “Clear!” from his superior.

Reid opened a door and quickly ran in, finding it mostly empty except for a chair in the corner and trash littering the floor. He slowly lowered his gun, exhaling. “Cl-“ his shout was cut off by the arm around his neck. Reid choked, fumbling with his gun, trying to shoot it at the unsub, or even just to make a noise to alert the others.

A scream tore through his throat as a gun came down on his hands, making him fumble for his own gun. He reached his hands up to the attacker’s arms, desperately scratching at him in hopes of being let go. Panic rippled through Reid’s body, though he soon became aware of the pressure of a gun resting against his head. His body went slack as he stopped struggling.

His previous scream seemed to have done the trick, as Hotch and Morgan came running through the door, guns aimed at the unsub.

“Linus let the agent go.” Hotch began. “You don’t want him, he doesn’t fit your type, it won’t get you off.”

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU! SHUT UP!” He released his grip around Reid’s neck, and as he did, Reid crumpled to the floor, gasping for air and grabbing at his neck. The gun moved to be positioned at the back of his head. “Take your vest off. NOW!”

Reid coughed, his lungs struggling to gain back strength as he reached his fumbling hands to his vest. When he held it in his hands, he met eyes with Morgan, before slowly tossing it to the side. He couldn’t think straight, which terrified him. Normally Reid’s thoughts were quick, and calculating. But now the only thoughts he had were “ _Please. Not this way. Someone save me please.”_ Reid was having trouble handling just how quickly everything was happening. He had no time to think, no time to understand, no time to formulate a plan.

For Reid the whole moment was over fairly soon, but for Morgan and Hotch the whole ordeal was over in about thirty minutes.

Five minutes where Reid prayed to gods he didn’t believe in, where Morgan and Hotch attempted to speak, only to be shut down.

Ten minutes where Morgan and Hotch desperately played different angles with Linus, after finally being allowed to speak. 

“Lower your guns!”

“You know we can’t do that Linus.”

For Reid, this conversation sounded like it was happening underwater.The only thoughts piercing his mind being the pain of the hardwood under his knees, the gun that was loaded and aimed at his head, lists of divine spirits he could pray to for safety, and things he wished he’d done differently.

Ten minutes where Hotch began to make progress. “Linus we know you didn’t want to hurt anyone. Those women were the problem. They provoked you. They _asked_ for it.”

It had been enough for Linus’s gun to lower to his side. “They were whores! They believed they were better than me! I’m better than a filthy whore!”

“Of course you are Linus.” Morgan added. “That’s why you killed them. Only you understood that they needed to be punished. Punished for not being able to please you how you wanted them to.”

Linus nodded wildly. “You understand! You can’t arrest me! I did this for the good of the world! Let me leave with him!” The gun was aimed at Reid again. The weak doctor didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, his reaction wasn’t noticeable. His thin frame was shaking, and his usually slicked back hair hung in his eyes, some strands sticking to his face from the amount he was sweating. Reid barely flinched as the yelling continued around him, his eyes closed and lips moving so rapidly with pleads he may have been the fastest speaker in the world.

Hotch took a step towards Linus. “We want to interview you. Not arrest you.”

“DON’T MOVE! DON’T MOVE TOWARDS ME! NOT ANOTHER STEP!”

Hotch froze in his tracks, his hands in surrender as he shook his head. “We won’t hurt you. You’re a genius.” As he spoke he took another step towards Linus.

“I SAID DON’T COME CLOSER!”

The gun shot rang throughout the empty room.

-

The pain was agonizing. Reid collapsed onto his side as the bullet tore through his abdomen. It had been unexpected. In the midst of his begging he had toppled over, and his brain scrambled to understand what was happening around him.

He was aware of a sickening _bang_ that sounded as his head collided with the hardwood floor. He blinked his eyes open, fighting for an ounce of consciousness as stars and shapes swirled across his vision. He had only one thought: He knew he had to stay awake.

A feeling of cold washed over Reid as he pressed his hand to his wound. Why was no one coming for him? His hearing had gone all fuzzy. It sounded as though he had cotton shoved into his ears. Coughs tore through his body, tearing his throat raw as he coughed up blood, splattering his delicate face.

The words in his mouth wouldn’t come out.

_Help! Please! Hotch! Morgan!_

But no one heard. Why was no one coming? Why could he not hear an ambulance? Was the unsub apprehended? What was going on? Why were they leaving him to die on the cold floor? He felt trapped in his own mind, his blood soaking into his clothes. His hand raised to his line of vision. Even through the spinning he could make out the dark red painted against his usual pale hand.

Never had Reid experienced such pain before. He wanted to scream, but each breath he took was laborious and caused him to cough, gasping for air as though he’d never had oxygen before.

He wanted to give up.

-

“NO!” Morgan shouted, watching as his best friend collapsed to the floor, looking like nothing more than a rag doll. He couldn’t stand by and watch as his friend became another victim to this sick son of a bitch, another statistic, another picture framed on the hallway of the BAU.

“YOU DONT MOVE CLOSER! MOVE CLOSER AND I’LL SHOOT HIM AGAIN AND THIS TIME IT WILL BE HIS HEAD!” Linus was desperate, kneeling behind Reid with his gun aimed towards the agent's head, daring the other two agents to test what he was capable of.

Hotch shot Morgan a warning look. Do not move closer. Do not help Reid. If this went south anymore that it already had, Reid would be more than injured. All of this conveyed in one look. SWAT hadn’t been called, there hadn’t been enough time to send a unit out. Elle and Gideon had stayed at the precinct and as far as they knew, Morgan, Hotch and Reid were doing just fine, and were most importantly: intact. Somehow they needed to find a way to alert them. They needed a plan.

The way this proceeded needed to be careful. One misstep and Reid would end up lying on the floor until he bled out, or was shot again.

In the silence of the room, listening to Reid’s gasps for air was pure torture for Hotch and Morgan. It was enough to spring them into motion. “Linus,” Hotch began. “My co-worker Morgan doesn’t understand the desire to kill those worthless people like we do. Let him leave, he’ll only judge us. The two of us can talk.”

It was a long-shot. The chances of Linus allowing Morgan to leave the room were slim.

All was still, with only the labored breaths of Reid, and the blood pooling around him to fill the silence. He was running out of time. If Hotch’s measurements were correct he’d been shot about 2 minutes ago. He needed medical attention in the next 3, considering the amount of blood and how much he was struggling for air.

“Let him leave. I’m so tired! I don’t want to keep fighting anymore!”

“You don’t have to fight anymore Linus. Come with me. We can talk.” Noticing the unsub had lowered his head, Hotch took the opportunity to take a step closer, while Morgan seized this moment to bolt out the door.

-

Morgan was quick to reach his flip phone, dialing the precinct. “This is Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan with the Behavior Analysis Unit. I’m at 1547 Collems Lane. We have an agent down, we need back up and medics _now_.” Without waiting for a response he hung up, sprinting outside and around the house.

Adrenaline coursed through him, like it usually did when they brought the unsub in. This time however, it was accompanied with panic, and overwhelming anger at the man he had left alone with Hotch and Reid.

He had seen the window when he first scouted out back, and again when he had entered the hostage situation in the bedroom. Due to Linus kneeling on the ground, the shot would be hard to take, but if Hotch was able to distract him enough, it could be done.

Besides, Reid needed serious medical attention. Listening to his breathing had been torture enough, but the glimpses he had seen of his friend’s body was horrific. He had looked dead, and Morgan would’ve believed him to be if it wasn’t for the coughing, and how much he was shaking. He looked like he was struggling to even exist.

Morgan could almost hear a timer in his head, counting off how much longer Reid would last. While it was more than good news he had stayed conscious this long, he had no idea how much longer that would last.

Morgan ducked below the window. At the angle the unsub was at he’d need a height advantage to make a clean shot. If this shot didn’t hit, the unsub would be going down in a hail of bullets. He pressed his body to the wall, listening to the conversation, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

“The FBI wants to work with you,” Hotch was saying. “But you need to come with us. Move away from the agent. You could replace him for us. We just need you to come with us.”

The strategy was a good one, considering the man was a narcissist, and at the sound of some rustling, Morgan assumed Linus had stood, which was exactly what he needed to get the best shot. Quickly, Morgan stood, the rush of blood pounding in his ears. He barely even flinched as the glass window shattered, and the unsub went crashing to the floor beside Reid.

“Hotch! Get Reid!” He shouted. He used his gun to break the rest of the glass, before pulling himself up through the window and kneeling beside Linus.

-

The sound of the second gunshot didn’t phase Reid. He merely blinked, his eyes fluttering to a close. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay awake. He was so tired. So scared of being alone in his mind, unable to call out for help. Left alone with thoughts of victim survival rates, and average times for ambulances to get to the location and back to the hospital. But most of all he felt betrayed. Why had no one come to help him?

“Reid! Reid! Stay with me, open your eyes! Reid!” With immense effort, he revealed his brown eyes to the bright room. Through his blurry vision he saw Hotch sitting beside him, and he was faintly aware of the pressure being applied to his wound.

Panic still consumed every fiber of his being.His lungs felt like they’d been run over, and all the sound around him had become distant, and far away, though his head was pounding. He supposed the good thing was that his body was beginning to go numb from the shock of it all.The whirring of sirens drew closer, as Reid’s eyes shut for moments at a time, only to be roused by the increasingly worried cries of Hotch begging him to “ _Keep his damn eyes open.”_ It was upon these reminders that Reid would summon all of his energy, and manage to open his eyes once more.

At some point Reid felt his breathing become easier, but also the noise around him increased. He was aware of the people’s faces looking over him: some he recognized as Morgan and Hotch and others as complete strangers. He no longer heard his lungs rattling for air, and his most coherent thought was: _someone must be giving me oxygen._

When he opened his eyes again he was staring up at a kind looking woman, and the ceiling of some sort of vehicle. The sirens were closer than ever and sometimes he swore he could hear the sound of Morgan saying “Come on kid…Stay awake…Reid eyes open…Almost there Reid…”

Reid’s eyes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. He figured it would just be easier to stop fighting. Easier to drift away into a state of nothingness.


	4. The Trust We Put in Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid has an idea for the case, and Hotch puts his faith in him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a longer chapter but also nothing really happens?? a bit boring honestly. also the characterization is a bit all over the place?? sorry for anything out of character I really try to keep it as close to their personalities as possible!

March 2005

The idea had come to him at four A.M.

It was quite possibly one of the most far-fetched ideas he’d ever had, but out of desperation to just get out of his empty hotel room, Reid got dressed, grabbed his bag and took a taxi to the precinct.

The coffee he had made in his hotel room was awful, but just the thing someone would need if they were working on a case at four in the morning, with no one else present. The police officers on duty shot Reid some questioning looks, but the FBI badge clipped to his cardigan silenced these questions.

Sitting in the small room, Reid paced, mumbling to himself about the probabilities of this being true. How could he prove this theory? Would the team even believe him? It wasn’t like he blamed everyone for worrying about him, but he didn’t like how it seemed to influence everyone’s thoughts on how well he could handle the case. Normally he would’ve called Gideon by now, explaining his idea and asking him his thoughts, but now, with uncertainty plaguing his very being, he couldn’t bring himself to dial his superior’s number. He felt like he was suffocating. This job was all he had ever been preparing for, what if he couldn’t do it?

After the push-pin incident with JJ, he’d been confined to the table, looking through files, maps, and photos he’d long since committed to memory. If they couldn’t even trust him to call up Garcia with some questions, he doubted they’d entertain the idea of a killing duo.

He sat in that room for hours, looking over files, writing notes, sorting through old cases, and drinking coffee so terrible, if it wasn’t for how preoccupied he was, he might’ve vomited. His head was beginning to spin and the only reason he didn’t take a second to just _breathe_ was because he was afraid that if he did, he would be sucked into thoughts of screams, ambulances and a pain in his side.

Without knowing he was doing it his hand rested on his side, pressing into the angry scar that lay just under his cardigan.

_Stop. You have a job to do. You have something to prove._

Hotch was the first one who walked in the door, and the sudden creaking that shattered the silence of the room, made Reid jump, his hand moving from his side and onto his holster.

“Reid!” Hotch’s tone was sharp, raising his hands into the air to show his good intentions. “Reid it’s me.” He glanced at the files strewn all over the table and a notebook filled with frantic writings. “How long have you been here?”

“Uh-“ Reid looked around, glancing down at his watch that he always kept on top of his cardigan sleeve. “About three hours. Look Hotch, I had a theory and I know it’s out there but Gideon is always saying to think outside the box and…” as he spoke he lifted up his notebook, walking around the table towards his superior.

Hotch lifted a hand to silence Reid. “Listen, Reid I understand you want to work this case but you need rest, we can’t look at theories that may slow us down, we need to keep pursuing our leads. How’s the geographical profile coming along?” He began to walk towards the map, picking up a few stray files and collecting them into a pile.

Reid lowered his notebook so it was hanging at his side. “Are you saying you don’t trust me? Do you want me off the case? Hotch this is insane you haven’t even given me a _chance.”_

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to face the young agent. “Reid slow down. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you’ve just come back and you’re working yourself into the ground already, this is what I was afraid of, we need you at your best. Not half-awake and delusional. This is why we gave you three months off. When we get home I want you taking that extra month off.”

“But I’m _fine!_ I haven’t had to take pain killers for a solid month, I’m still just as capable as I was in January. I don’t get it.” A pit was in Reid’s stomach. If anyone had the right to not trust the other team members it was Reid. _He_ was the one, he thought to himself, that had bled out for minutes, waiting for the unsub to be brought in. Yet here Hotch was, not trusting him. If it wasn’t for Reid’s overwhelming desire to please those of a higher standing, he would’ve voiced his agitations.

Instead he lowered his head, hitting his pen against his journal. “Hotch, I know you think I have PTSD, and I know you think I can’t do my job anymore…“

“Reid I never said you couldn’t do your job.” Hotch interrupted. “This is a matter of you psychologically, not of your merit as a profiler.” He examined the young man before him. He remembered when he had met Reid. Bright eyed, dying to please everyone he met, and painfully awkward, but he wasn’t afraid. Sure he seemed nervous, and there were often times Hotch doubted he’d ever be able to even _hold_ a gun, but he wasn’t this terrified.

Now, Reid was everything he’d always been, as well as on edge. He had the demeanor of a man who had been doing this job for much, much longer. Reid was beginning to remind him of Gideon and his stomach lurched at the thought. He was too young to have the paranoia of a man much older. Yet, here he was. Hotch hated how he had changed. In fact, he blamed himself. If only he’d been quicker. If only he’d been able to shoot the unsub and get to Reid faster. He should’ve never let him enter the home to begin with. He should’ve prepared him for this.

He had been so focused on teaching Reid how to profile, how to accurately conduct interrogations, and how to fire a gun, that he had never considered teaching Reid how to emotionally process this job. He had never taken the time to explain to Reid that when things got bad, he needed to step away. That he needed to have people, to have _friends_ he could rely on whenever it was all beginning to be too much. That he couldn’t; fix everything with books, facts and logic. That sometimes he needed to accept things for how they were. Hotch wished he had learned that lesson at a younger age.

But now was not the time for this discussion, and judging by the fidgeting movements of the younger agent, he could tell he wanted to get off the topic of his injury. “I’m sorry Reid. You know I’m not one to admit I’m wrong but…I suppose we need to investigate every theory. Our leads aren’t turning up much anyways.” He glanced down at the files on the table. “Elle and Morgan were having trouble finding personal connections between victims. What do you have?”

This seemed to have relaxed Reid, the thought of being able to impress Hotch. While Aaron was unsure of the work Reid could’ve done in his disgruntled state, he was willing to hear him out while waiting for the others to arrive. Besides, if he actually did have a decent theory, it would be worth looking into.

“It’s a duo Hotch. It’s uh- Well it’s a couple! A boyfriend and girlfriend. The boy wanting to prove that he believes the girl is beautiful, so he kills people who are seen as conventionally beautiful. There was scraps of rope at the scenes, but none of the victims were tied up. None of them displayed bruising. There’s someone with him there. A hostage. It’s someone he’s trying to prove is beautiful despite what society says.”

Hotch screwed his face up in concentration as he tried to think this theory over. “It’s a possibility but Reid, there’s not enough evidence. Are you sure..?”

Reid leaned over to the files and grabbed one of them, flipping open to the pages he had examined countless times in the past few hours. “Look, another set of footprints! Significantly smaller, seem to be struggling. See there, that’s the rope. It’s not unheard of for significant others to be roped into a serial killers fantasies. I’m figuring he might have some form of mental illness. She might be reported missing, I was going to wait for you before I looked into the files and…”

His voice dropped off as he saw Hotch watching him. “Hotch please. Can we at least investigate this.”

Hotch let out a sigh from between his thin lips, his eyes laced with worry, doubt, and concern. “You’re not allowed with us when we catch the unsub. Do you understand me? When we get back Gideon is going to do a psych evaluation with you. Then we can talk about field work.”

Reid eagerly nodded, gathering up his files before looking at Hotch. “I know you think I’m incapable of doing this job right now, but I’m _fine.”_

Hotch had the image of Reid in that small hospital room burned into his head. Despite the room’s size, it had seemed to swallow him up. He had looked so frail, so small and skinny. So _helpless._ He had looked almost pathetic sitting there, quietly eating jell-o and playing chess with Gideon as the rest of the team sat by and watched. Now, instead of looking just as he had on his first day at the BAU, Reid looked like a lost dog, shivering and scared.

“If you leave the precinct take someone with you. I want hourly check ins as well, Reid. I was hesitant to let you on this case, you need to show me it wasn’t a mistake.” With that, Hotch pulled his phone out of his pocket, and seeing missed calls he left the small room, leaving Reid alone with his thoughts.

\- 

His talk with Hotch had given him some encouragement. As long as he kept it together for the rest of the case he would be fine. But there were thoughts nagging at the back of his mind.

What if he was wrong? What if when they got back to D.C. Gideon deemed him unfit to be a profiler? What if he just wasn’t meant to be at the BAU? It was all he had ever wanted to do, all he had ever known. Who would he be without the BAU?

The car jostled Reid around, his shoulder lightly bumping against the window.

“Hey kid, feeling any better today?”

Reid appreciated the effort from Morgan, but truly, he just wanted to be alone with this thoughts.

“Who said I didn’t feel good yesterday?” He looked up from his files, staring at Morgan.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised, and he turned his eyes away from the road as he glanced over at Reid. “No one. I just figured if you needed to talk to someone I’m here. You weren’t supposed to be back yet.”

“Yeah well I’m fine.” It had sounded harsher than he meant it to. He blew air between his lips and looked down at the file.

“You’re sure that the shoe was custom-made? I mean how can you even tell that sort of thing?” It was clear that Morgan was trying to diffuse the tension that had been so thick it was unnerving. “Do you know a lot about shoes or something? It wouldn’t shock me if you did.”

"No Morgan, I don’t know a lot about shoes.” He mumbled, and then made a noise between a laugh and a scoff. “Look, at the second crime scene there was an imprint in the dirt at the bottom of a shoe. Garcia zoomed in and was able to make out a logo. It’s a local company, owned by a family. Apparently they only make the shoes by order. Garcia ran the dimensions so we have a rough idea of the foot size.”

Morgan sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, slightly run down store. “Well, I guess at this point we have to try anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how boring this chapter is :(

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fic and I'm genuinely not expecting anyone to read it, I just wanted to hurt Reid. I try to make the characterization as accurate as possible, as well as plot lines that aren't too hard to believe may have happened. If you have any suggestions for how I can improve please let me know!


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